


sugar we're goin' down swingin'

by orphan_account



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Fluff, Other, Trans Character, enemies to friends (time span: 12 hours), friends to lovers (time span: unknown), gon/killua as a side pairing!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 15:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18780895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Well Mr—” a finger sharply digs into the name tag at his lapel “Dr. Paladiknight—quite becoming of a doctor, I must say, to almost run a person over—it is the duty of the drivers to take care of the pedestrians, or did they skip out on that in pre-school?”(or, where Leorio bumps into a huffy blonde with a sharp tongue in a couple of accidental encounters and then it all goes down from there)





	sugar we're goin' down swingin'

Leorio’s had better mornings.

Upon reaching the ripe age of 25 where you suddenly have all the aunts and uncles you’ve never even _met_ in your childhood popping out of nowhere and buzzing around you like bumblebees, ‘marriage? kids? house?’ being all that gets discussed over thanksgiving, Leorio’s favourite mornings have been those where he gets to wake up to the brisk 5am wind knocking on his windows and making its presence known. The fresh breath of morning air filling his lungs, the twitter and pitter patter of birds hopping over branches and crushing ripe berries between their little beaks—it all feels like heaven.

Zepile had once told him (drunk and on the verge of passing out) ‘ _the correct way to live, my friend, is finding joy in the mundane things of life_ ’ and Leorio—fresh senior in med studies, 3 days and 8 hours away from a mid-term now shoved into the back of his friend’s car, not with the lack of cheap vodka and empty crushed cans of cola—had almost teared up once done mulling over the words.

Even after all those years, Leorio’s kept those words to heart. He lets his body and mind find joy in starting afresh every day. There _is_ a sweet sort of joy in waking up before the sun so you could see it rise lazily through your kitchen window while your hands were busy flipping through the morning newspaper and preparing yourself a mug of hot, well-burnt coffee that is sure to scathe your throat in the most blissful way.

And then there are also mornings where you’re stumbling out of bed and crashing against your table and screaming curses at the top of your lungs.

It wasn’t a good morning. Leorio had been _late_ , and terribly so. Contrary to the posters hung up on his office wall that preached hygiene and a good 8 hours of sleep, Leorio had barely finished brushing his teeth before he was running wet fingers through his hair, splashing water onto his face—that clearly looked like it hadn’t even enjoyed 3 hours of sleep—while mentally apologizing to Zepile for not being able to find joy in spraying on a generous amount of deo and gelling the mess on top of his head once he’s done drying off and pulling on a shirt and tie and skipping out on breakfast or coffee or treading to his kitchen entirely for the sake of hurrying into his car and driving off at definitely _not_ legal speed.

And then _this_ had happened.

“ _Excuse me_ what the _fuck_?!” Leorio yells once he’s over the shock of almost having run someone over. He’s shoving his car door open and rushing out to see if he’s killed someone just a handful minutes into the day, but instead gets greeted by a murderous glare and then a seething body now curled like an angered cat’s is marching up right towards him.

“Oh I’m _sorry_ but maybe _you_ shouldn’t be driving so recklessly at the crack of the goddamn dawn!”

The difference in height is almost laughable, but the other tips their head up sharply and directs a completely unafraid glare right at Leorio with such vengeance that Leorio’s afraid there’s holes burning onto his own face.

“With all due respect, _you’re_ the one who suddenly appeared in front of my car out of lord knows where as far as I remember,” his voice dies down in its bite, and the other relaxes their shoulders just a bit—nowhere close to being unruffled.

“Well Mr—” a finger sharply digs into the name tag at his lapel “ _Dr._ Paladiknight—quite becoming of a doctor, I must say, to almost _run_ a person over—it is the duty of the _drivers_ to take care of the pedestrians, or did they skip out on that in pre-school?”

Leorio sputters in disbelief, “I’m sorry you’re just being unreasonable now—maybe they skipped out on drilling some manners to you in said pre-school?”

“ _Excuse me_? Take that back! You have _no_ right to speak so when you tried to run me over literally seconds ago!”

“ _Tried_ to run you over? You _jumped_ in front of my car!”

“Why on _earth_ would I voluntarily jump in front of your car do I _look_ that deranged!”

“Well you’re _not_ exactly doing a good job at proving the opposite!”

“Oh my _god!_ You’re _unbelievable!_ ”

They’re both seething. It’s a surprising crowd they have gathered considering it’s only so many minutes past 6 in the morning. Leorio spots from the corner of his eye the milkman, the newspaper vendor he’s talked to a couple times before, the neighbourhood lady who shops radishes and broccolis from the vegetable mart the second it opens so she could get the freshest ones first, the postman who rings his bell a couple dozen times in the span of 30 seconds. It’s insanely early in the morning and he’s in the middle of the road arguing back and forth with a spitfire and the entire town’s watching and he’s over half an hour late for work.

 _Wonderful_.

Leorio’s unpleasantly knocked out of his train of though when the other pushes at his chest. He would’ve started something for that too but they have their body curled and eyebrows knitted in embarrassment, teeth gnawing at their lip—probably having pushed him away out of pure embarrassment solely.

They tuck stray strands of hair behind their ear and look right up at Leorio with pinkened cheeks and scathing eyes.

And then they are turning on their heel and stomping off with _too_ much anger and embarrassment contained in a body so little. Leorio thinks he hears them rant under their breath to themselves.

The rest of his day doesn’t go as easy as pie either. Cheadle gives him _the_ lecture (the one infamous for lasting 30 whole minutes and including way too many adjectives) the second he steps in when the clock is already nearing 7. She’s rapidly pacing around his office and flailing her arms in disbelief and then stopping right in front of Leorio and slapping her hands on the desk and leaning close enough for their noses to touch.

“You are a _respected_ , young doctor, Mr. Leorio Paladiknight. _Make_ your reputation stick to it—” clears her throat, and then, “Also your nametag is upside down.”

Right.

By afternoon, he’s smoked through two cigarettes. A good coffee break on his empty stomach at 4pm later, he’s tending to the last of his patients. As exhausting and tiring as that task is—has and will always be—it never fails to bring a smile to his face when they look up at him with so much trust and hope and call him a good man when he promises to take care of them. And then he does, and they thank him endlessly and it all feels worth it.

But of course, it all comes crashing down, _again_ , when there’s a blizzard right before he leaves.

“Is this a sign. This is a sign.”

Cheadle rolls her eyes. “Zip it, drama queen. Get your car and drive out while it’s still on the low. It’s sure to get worse in another hour or so—also, did you eat?”

“Eat what?”

“Lunch.”

“Uh,”

“Breakfast?”

“Well—”

“ _Dinner_ _last_ _night_?”

“So the thing is—”

“ _Leorio!_ Were you working on an empty stomach? As a doctor you’d know bes—oh my _god_.”

So much for calling him a drama queen. Cheadle holds her head in her hands and does that disappointed-mother headshake. He’s been at the receiving end of it far too often these days.

“You better drop by an eatery and fill up that stomach of yours, young man. Or else I’ll be firing you on the grounds of not being fit enough to be a doctor and not even your phd and multitudes or degrees and certificates are going to get you a job elsewhere.”

Leorio doesn’t dare doubt it.

And that’s how a half an hour drive through the endless traffic in the worsening weather later, Leorio parks at the nearest bakehouse and pushes in through the doors in a flurry. A chirpy ‘Welcome to Patty Cakes!’ ringing through the pleasantly warm and dry room is all the warning he gets before there are hurried footsteps rushing over to him, a tight fist grabbing him by the tie and making the tip of his nose subjected to the end of a flour-dusted wooden spoon.

“What are _you_ doing here?!”

Leorio blinks rapidly.

Upon deeming vision through the fog tinted glasses impossible, he brings up a hand to pull them off and gets an eyeful of puffed up cheeks dusted in flour and what _would’ve_ been warm brown eyes instead now frothing with fury.

Oh.

“ _Oh_.”

He’s shoved back. “Yes, _oh_.”

Their arms are crossed over their chest, foot tapping impatiently against the fluffy white carpeting. Leorio almost cannot trace them back to the burning ball of anger from the same morning because they now stand in a baby pink apron with flour dusting the top of their scrunched up nose and pinkened cheeks and their hair is up in a mess of a bun, probably done out of frustration while in the middle of baking because there’s flour there too.

Leorio’s limbs finally settle with the exhaustion of the day. He’s sure, because he can’t find it in himself to direct the anger at the person who’s probably going to be the one feeding him for the day. Unless they kick him out. Which they can, and probably will. Unless Leorio behaves himself. Which he doesn’t know how to because he’s a young out-the-road bachelor starving to death and this place is warm and cozy and smells divine and the fiery fluffed up spitfire in front of him does nothing to ward off the ease he feels in his shoulders.

“Do you greet all your customers like this?” he quirks an amused eyebrow, bringing up a hand to dust off the flour from his rumpled tie. “Or am I getting a special treatment?”

Borderline flirting with the person who accused you of almost killing them just hours ago isn’t the best idea, but Leorio has a knack for making the worst possible decisions (considering he _was_ a med student at one point.)

They open their mouth to bite back but Leorio’s stomach rumbling embarrassingly loud has them snapping it shut.

He should say something.

They watch him as he tries to swallow down his embarrassment. Leorio clears his throat after tugging at his collar that suddenly felt uncomfortably tight. And then,

“Table for one.” it’s not a question but a statement, as if they would kick Leorio out to serve their counterpart had he brought one along.

-

Rain pitter patters and bounces off the fog tinted glass. Leorio leans back in his chair with a satisfied hum after three sips of a well brewed coffee that put both the hospital’s and his to shame. It stings against his palate and burns on his tongue and in the back of Leorio’s mind he thinks this could be a murder plot but little did they know Leorio _liked_ having his coffee almost melt his tongue off.

There’s no cheesy music playing. Leorio curiously looks around the small room and sees no speakers nor surveillance cameras. It’s just four tables, a spacious carpeted flooring (the fluff looked awfully comfortable and Leorio was tempted to pull his shoes and socks off and feel it against his feet) and the counter, which stretched across the entire breadth of the bakery, displaying an array of pastries and cakes and a pâtissier with their lips drawn up to an almost pout and eyes watching Leorio like a mother hawk.

Leorio wants to say that it’s making him uncomfortable because it _is_ but their place their rules, also Leorio’s pretty sure it’s nearing closing time because his watch says it’s well past 8 in the night, and said ruffled up pâtissier wouldn’t think twice before kicking him out before he’s even eaten. Which reminds Leorio, he never got their name.

There’s no nametag on their chest, and the suggestion of asking them is way off the table.

They huff and bustle around while preparing Leorio’s order and once they disappear behind the backdoor, he finally relaxes.

The rain had gotten worse. It wrings out of the heavy clouds in thick sheets and splash right on top of the cars that have been crammed in the same jam for almost ever. It looks like pure hell outside and Leorio’s glad for the first time the entire day that luck was by his side when he pulled up at the bakery before the traffic had gotten tighter, making it impossible to move.

10 minutes later, Leorio’s digging into hot breads and pizzas, having to stop after every bite to ward off grateful tears. He remembered his mother—good ol’ Laila who spoke twisted Spanish and had an orthodox look like every other conventional adult in Puerto Rico—telling him that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Leorio had deemed it stupid but now that he leaned back in his chair, satiated and well-fed, any irritation he had towards the person he’s already had two bad encounters with having disappeared completely, he’s starting to take those words into account.

There’s a niggling feeling at the back of his head urging him to apologize. And Leorio _wants_ to, he’s never been the one to not apologize when it’s his fault (and now that he had replayed the scene from morning a couple dozen times, it sure has started to look more and more like his fault) but the other looks like they absolutely do _not_ want to talk to him unless it’s for settling the bill, at least Leorio guesses that’s what it is because they’re just flipping through a novel and looking up to stare pointedly when they catch Leorio staring for too long.

Leorio clears his throat and tries to fight off the embarrassed blush creeping onto his cheeks.

10 more minutes later the weather starts to calm down just a bit. The traffic’s moved and Leorio doesn’t waste another second sitting idle (he has to wake up at _four_ tomorrow and he really needed 5 hours of sleep at best).

After nervously bouncing his leg and calming his breathing to not startle himself, he pushes back his chair and stands up abruptly, grabs his wallet and strides over in what he hopes is a totally not panicked way.

They look up from their book, put it down, and pull a calculator close to themselves.

Leorio waits nervously.

Well,

he doesn’t exactly _wait_.

“Terrible weather huh?”

It doesn’t sound casual, and the other notices too. If they found it ridiculous, they don’t let it show. Leorio licks his lips and waits for a reply, all he getting in return being a hum.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat. Twice. “So about this morning— _god_ , I’m so sor—”

“That will be $29, sir,” their fingers slap against the calculator buttons curtly. “Anything else?”

They wear a customer service smile and Leorio realizes this is his first time seeing them smile and he would be lying if he said it was anything short of pretty, despite the fact that it didn’t reach their eyes and the corners of their mouth were pinched in the complete opposite of happy.

Leorio’s head blanks.

“Uh, no—no, nothing.”

He slides them the money with a tip and they accept it with the fake smile still intact.

“Thanks, make sure to drop by again!”

Leorio’s pretty sure that’s the last thing they want him to do.

-

“Hand over Alice the box of new syringes and start up the electrocardiograph in room 314, thanks Em!”

Leorio shuffles down the stairs, heading straight to the office rooms. Work at the hospital was as hectic as it always is in the early hours of 5am. Fortunately, it was always quiet without the racket of children crying and people wailing till at least 8 in the morning—those were the absolute worst, they still have a therapist for all the doctors that are driven to the corner with just the cacophony alone.

He finds Cheadle in the storeroom, busy going through a file that’s basically just a huge stack of x-rays. Leorio rounds the table, stopping right in front of her to provide two more helping hands.

“Mr. Winson on 2nd floor?” he asks, scrutinizing the tiny font at the corner and realizing it’s not the one he needs.

“I didn’t expect them to ask for the copies after clearly saying they don’t need them. And—all the _junk_ in this room. Does no one ever clean this place up?”

Leorio laughs, taking the file from her hands. She clearly wasn’t in the mood for treasure hunting at the break of dawn.

“Sit down, I’ve got this.”

Cheadle sighs when she drops onto the nearest chair. Her fingers rub at her temples. “You need to be at the clinic in half an hour.”

Leorio hums in affirmation. “There’s not a lot of traffic at 6, I’ll reach there in 15 minutes.”

“And did you have breakfast?”

Of course, _the_ question.

“Did you?” he shoots back.

Cheadle shuts up at that.

Two peas in a pod.

Leorio grabs three files and sets them down on the table before taking a seat across Cheadle. “I did have dinner though, a really good one. And I also needed some advice.”

She targets him with a scrutinizing gaze. “ _What_ did you do now.”

“You know about that person I told you yesterday—the one who I had this sort of brawl with in the middle of the road in the morning,”

“The angry blonde you almost killed?”

“Ki— _Cheadle_. Anyway, turns out they work at the bakery I dropped by yesterday and it was raining cats and dogs so it wasn’t like I could up and _leave_. But the food was amazing and surprisingly not poisoned—I mean, if it was, I have quite the immune system—and yeah they were still pissed but now that I look at it, they could have kicked me out into the rain, cold and starving, yet they didn’t and I couldn’t even apologize nor thank because they curtly made me pay and then I left.”

Cheadle hums lowly. “If I were them, I would’ve handed you over to the police the second you opened your mouth.”

Leorio stares bewildered.

“Put yourself in their shoes and look at it in their way. I think you owe them a _huge_ apology and a just as big thank you.”

She wasn’t wrong, and Leorio was mature enough to accept that it was his fault. He should’ve been careful and not channelled his frustration at being late onto the stranger who probably had their entire morning— _day_ —ruined because Leorio’s was. And then he also had the nerve to show up at their workplace and leave unscathed.

“God how do I apologize,”

Cheadle laughs.

“ _What_.”

“Nothing, you’re such a softie, Paladiknight. I mean it _is_ their business to serve customers and you did pay for everything and probably left a hefty tip too, but they still do deserve an apology.

Leorio finds the x-ray they were looking for. He cards through the rest and pulls it out onto the table.

“I’d say flowers.”

Leorio sputters. “You want me to embarrass myself _more_? That’s a terrible idea—I—no way. How weird would it be receiving flowers from a complete stranger?”

Cheadle grabs the x-ray copy and gets up from her seat. “Chocolates, sorry card—something like that. Don’t look at me like that, Leorio, I’ve never almost run someone over.”

-

And that’s how Leorio finds himself in front of the bakery for the second time in 2 consecutive days. He squares his shoulders, tightens the knot of his tie and makes sure it’s placed properly with the pin, grips the cardboard bag carrying in it some French wine (that cost him a fortune) and a box of dark chocolates (he _really_ wanted to skip out on the chocolates but Cheadle kept insisting and it was still much better than a sorry card or a bouquet of roses.)

The bell trills when he pushes open the glass doors. He doesn’t remember hearing it yesterday. Leorio slides in with his breath held, being greeted by a completely empty shop.

“Uh.”

There’s pin drop silence. The thick glass wards off the sounds of the city bumbling outside and Leorio eases out his exhale through his mouth as slowly as possible.

The only thing breaking the tight rope of silence is a sudden thud from the backroom, sounding extremely close to the sound of someone falling.

He never was taught in pre-school what to do in such situations.

Deciding to just roll with it, Leorio places the goodie bag on the glass counter and rushes back to knock on the door.

“Is everything okay there? May I come in?”

There’s silence for a few seconds before a voice calls out, “ _No!_ Do _not_ come in, everything’s fine—”

It doesn’t sound fine when there’s more thumping and thudding and 3 minutes of panic steadily rising to his chest, the door flings open. Leorio’s throat is dry with more and more fear.

“You are…covered in flour.”

Despite looking like they had writhed around in a sack of flour for hours, they roll their eyes and look away with the faintest hint of an embarrassed blush on their cheeks.

“What are you doing here,” they say, tapping their foot impatiently. “This place is closed for entertaining customers till 6 in the evening.”

Leorio looks at the direction they point in, which is a poster that clearly prints out exactly what they had said.

“Um actually—”

Leorio cuts himself off. They wait.

Here goes nothing.

“I just really wanted to apologize for yesterday morning. I was stressed and frustrated and I unfairly channelled it all onto you and I really shouldn’t have and yesterday, despite it all, you treated me like a proper customer—and, well, that’s your _job_ but you put aside all your indignation to do your duty and I feel so guilty and I haven’t stopped thinking about how unfairly I treated you so yeah, here I am…I really hope you forgive me—and, also accept my thanks, if it’s not a lot to ask for, of course, in case which…”

Their eyes are big and curious as they study him. Leorio’s _nervous_. There’s cold sweat dampening his forehead and he’s forgotten his glasses in the car and his shirt feels a little too tight.

“I believe that bag belongs to you?”

Leorio follows their eyes that quirk in the direction of the wine and chocolates. “Oh no it’s yours—I mean, it does belong to me, but it’s for you. I—got it. For you. As an apology.”

And then the unbelievable happens when they look to the side and bite their lip as if swallowing down a laugh.

“The type to pacify people through material means, hm?”

Leorio’s eyes fly wide with horror. Shit, he _never_ considered that.

“No! I—”

“Got it, doctor.” They meet his eyes, something akin to a humorous twinkle dancing in them. Leorio’s mouth is _completely_ dry. “I accept your apology—and thanks. However, if you wish for my sincere forgiveness,” they rake their eyes up his stature. “—you’re going to have to help me out with a little something.”

That’s how, mere seconds later, Leorio finds himself in the back of the bakery, in what he supposes is the kitchen cum storeroom, except it looks like neither with how it’s fogged with flour. Leorio looks down at his feet and sees his shoes immediately whiten.

“Um, are we going to clean this?” it’s not a hard task. Leorio’s always helped in cleaning and cooking around the house back in Puerto Rico, and if that’s what it takes to get into the good books of this stranger who doesn’t really feel like one anymore, then so be it.

“Nope,” their lips pop at the ‘p’. Leorio finds them dragging a stool into the corner and then climbing it. “There are,” they stretch up to their full height, and then get on the tips of their toes. “Some annoying little spiders in the corner here.”  their fingers smack against the wall uselessly. “I’m trying to kill them.”

They hold his eyes, looking from below their stretched out arm.

Leorio’s _speechless._

When he was told to sign up for a task, he didn’t expect to see the bubbling spitfire climbing a stool and stretching out like a cat to touch places they couldn’t reach.

It’s unbearably adorable when the realization seems to sink into them too, their eyes widening and face flushing a bright pink.

Leorio’s by their side to stable the stool lest they should fall.

“Are you laughing? Stop laughing!”

He muffles his face to his shoulder and waves his hand.

“Alright, get down from there, I’ve got this.”

They ask Leorio to move so they could get down all by themselves because they can.

And then Leorio’s reaching out to the cobwebs with one foot on the top of the stool and the other on one of the ledges to stable him, duster reaching out to the corner to break all the webs. They pass him the bug spray once he extends a hand and then in 5 minutes time, they’re done cleaning out the place. With spiders, at least. The flour all over the floor is still the same.

“So do I now have your forgiveness?” Leorio asks, accepting the cup of tea they slide towards him.

The quirk of their lips suggests a hint of a smile. “Hm, it’s well-earned. You did look on the verge of crying had I considered shooing your apology away.”

Leorio almost spits out his tea. “That’s not correct!”

And then they smile, bright and beautiful, the apples of their cheeks pinkened and squeezed with mirth. “Maybe you could offer me the glasses you wear, if you insist I’m wrong.”

“Surely,” Leorio shakes his head, returning his own, what he _prays_ , is a charming smile. “Oh and—I’m Leorio,” he extends a hand. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m a doctor at the city hospital.”

The other leans on their elbows, looking at his offered hand through the dips of their lashes. “I know.”

“Wh—you _do_?”

They push back the hair that fell against their cheek behind their ear. Leorio keeps staring. “I do. You worked in the team treating my mother when she had her surgery a couple of years ago. You were a trainee or an intern then, I believe.”

Leorio’s beyond shocked. “I was a doctor in training! But—I’m pretty sure I don’t remember ever seeing you.”

They look like someone you’d have a real hard time forgetting.

“I wasn’t there. I just know you from the stories she told me, she really loved her team of doctors, and _you_ especially happened to be a chatty little thing that had all her attention,”

Leorio laughs. It’s hearty and full and it burns at his chest in the most pleasant ways. “I’d be lying if I said I remember her clearly. But it is always fun to chat with your patients. The older ladies especially have a lot of tea to serve.”

“Oh my god,” They muffle their laughter into their palm. Leorio’s almost preening. “So,” they tilt their head, “Did she ever say anything about me?”

“Oh she might’ve. Never dropped a name though—which I hope I get now?”

They bite their lip in amusement and shake their head. “Not that easily.”

They swiftly get up from their seat and twirl on the heel of their feet.

“Hey! Am I really not going to get your name?” he calls out. They shuffle behind the counter.

“Nope, I’m not that easy to get around, _Leorio._ ”

The way his name rolls on their tongue and slips out of their lips has him freezing in his place and letting it go completely.

-

By the second week of the month, the hospital gets its fresh new batch of trainees. Leorio gets assigned kid Freecss who everyone worships because his father happened to be some hotshot but Leorio doesn’t bother adhering to the formalities, when he pulls him to a corner and gives a big lecture for handling equipment without _gloves_.

“Thank you, Leorio!” he says with his sunny smile and big teeth. He doesn’t even bother calling Leorio with the doctor prefix. Calling him Paladiknight isn’t even on the table.

“And what exactly are you thanking me for, brat?” he presses while snapping on his own rubber gloves once done making sure the other’s put them on.

“It’s really weird getting treated like… _you know_ , by all the staff. I think I hate it!” he’s still smiling. “I want to be respected because of my own hard work and not my dad’s! So I really appreciate you not being like them—not that there’s anything wrong with them! They are super nice people.”

“Alright kid,” he places his hands on his shoulders, giving a squeeze. “To start earning respect, begin with taking care of hygiene while handling sensitive objects, clear?”

“Yes sir!”

Once his shift’s over, Leorio usually drives home and sleeps his exhaustion away till his alarm rings, alerting another day. It’s been a cycle for a whole week and then he _finally_ gets a half day, during which he decides to drop by the bakery.

It’s been quite a while but the place feels as cozy and homely as it always did. There’s an addition of scented candles and flower wreathes hanging onto the walls, he notices upon entering.

Instead of seeing the same tuft of blonde hair, Leorio instead sees a teenage boy with his feet kicked up on the counter, lollipop in mouth and pale white hair tied up into a pony. He chokes on the candy in his mouth, hitting his fist against his chest and the glass counter and then pointing a finger right at him.

“What are you doing here, old man?! We open at _6pm_!”

Leorio’s never going to have a proper first encounter with any of the people working at Patty Cakes.

“Um yeah, I’m here to meet—” ok yeah, he doesn’t know their name either. “Wait— _old man_?!”

Few seconds of arguing back and forth with a snotty brat later, a familiar face appears and chides them for starting a racket.

“God, you two are _so_ _loud_ ,” then they look at Leorio, smile. “Hello, haven’t seen you in a while.”

Leorio feels his knees shake. “Hey,”

White haired kid makes a gagging noise. He leans down (down. He towers a whole head over the blonde) to whisper to the other, getting a punishing tug at his ear in return.

Then the kid’s prancing off to the back.

“He’s?”

“Oh that’s Killua, delivery boy.”

So _that’s_ him. He had been told that the bakery works more as an online ordering catering service, only opening for proper customer handling in the evening. Yet Leorio happened to be the only one that actually visited because the bakery was in the middle of nowhere, with no buildings and houses to be seen unless you drove for at least 15 minutes. Plus, Leorio remembers being told that it’s more of a place for Killua to crash at because the kid has some beef with his family.

“I feel like you’ve told me more about your delivery boy than about yourself,” Leorio muses. They laugh, the airy lilt and twinkle still as breathtaking as the first time he heard it.

“Is that so?”

“It is so.”

“Well, what do you want to know—” a silencing finger hovers over his parted lips. “Other than my name.”

Leorio chuckles. “Aren’t you one tough cookie,”

They arch an eyebrow and smile pretty, “Are you playing puns with me, doctor?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

“Fuck, _gross_ —pika, I’m gonna go nap at the back! Wake me up after you’re _done_.”

They flush bright red. “ _Killua!_ ” look at Leorio to see him grinning lazily. “ _Stop_ that, you!”

“So pika, it is?” he says, popping it out of his lips a few more times.

“It’s not!”

“Well it doesn’t matter, I’ll call you that till you’ve told it to me yourself, _pika_.”

They make a sound something between a whine and contained scream. Leorio dodges the hands that fail around his face.

“It’s Kurapika, okay? _There_.”

Leorio whistles, repeating it a couple of times.

“Kurapika,” he says, cutting off their complaints. They still, both wrists grabbed in one of Leorio’s hands. “ _Kurapika_.”

“—and I’ll deliver it by nigh—oh my _god._ ”


End file.
